


Matched Pair.

by BarPurple



Series: Mollcroft for the win [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Cuteness overload, F/M, Molly's Dress Sense, Mycroft is a Softie, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has no idea who his brother has started dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matched Pair.

Sherlock knew his pain in the arse big brother was seeing someone. He hadn’t need the second glance, but he’d made a silent show of whipping his head back up after his traditional groan of greeting and giving Mycroft a deliberate head to toe once over. Mycroft rolled his eyes under the obvious scrutiny, and proceeded to slowly turn on the spot, going as far as to extend his arms from his body as he did so.

“Got everything, brother mine? Mind if we get down to business now? Or do you need more time to observe?”

Sherlock waved away the sarcasm with a disdainful flick of his hand.

“Your love life is as boring as you are Mycroft. I hope the surveillance photos in your suit pocket prove more worthy of my time.”

 

The photos weren’t worth Mycroft’s trip or Sherlock’s time. It was unlikely that a romantic entanglement had dulled Mycroft’s wits to the point where he actually required Sherlock grudging assistance. He had manufactured a flimsy excuse to pester Sherlock simply to show off his new relationship status. Sherlock dealt with that by pointedly ignoring the topic, acting as if he had no interest in the fact his brother had abandoned his lonely ways and gotten himself a goldfish.

It was a total lie of course. Over the next few days little else consumed Sherlock’s thoughts outside of cases. He became obsessed with this mysterious new player in his brother’s life. Mycroft was stubbornly unforthcoming and dropped no further hints, nor offered any new detail for Sherlock to latch on to in order to unravel the puzzle.

The problem quickly surpassed three nicotine patches. Sherlock had high hopes for five or six, but John caught him and blew his top. There now wasn’t a chemist in a five mile radius of Baker Street that would sell any nicotine replacement products to Sherlock Holmes. John even got the Homeless Network on his side, so Sherlock couldn’t send a proxy to obtain a supply. He’d tried to ask Mrs Hudson and had been threatened with a frying pan for his trouble. While Sherlock was impressed by the way John had blocked all avenues, he was also deeply annoyed that his blogger had chosen now to engage his under used brain.

In the midst of nicotine withdrawal the problem of his brother’s love life became almost intolerable. He’d tried annoying a clue out of Mycroft at his office, but had been firmly escorted from the building by one of his brother’s unsmiling goons. Restless and in need of distraction he walked in the direction of St Barts, hoping that Molly had some interesting samples for him to look at. 

Molly did indeed have some wonderful bacteria cultures. She’d saved them from a John Doe who had been fished from the river by the Crossness Sewage Treatment Works. He totally ignored her cheerful prattle as he tried to focus on the slides. 

“Please move back Molly. The glare from that ridiculous blouse is distracting me.”

Molly pouted at him slightly, but shrugged and wandered away. Her dress sense was shocking; Sherlock was of the opinion that the eye bleeding arrangement of black, white, yellow and red had no place in a morgue. He frowned slightly as he realised he’d seen that exact checkered colour combination somewhere else today. He dismissed it as irrelevant and went back to the slides.

Two days later Sherlock was in a foul temper. He’d been trying to tail Mycroft in order to catch him with his new lover. All that he’d discovered was that his brother was a sneaky git, which in all honesty he had known before. Mycroft had disappeared unexpectedly into a side street, causing Sherlock to hurry after him in order not to lose him. As he’d rounded the corner his ankle had been caught by a brolly handle sending him sprawling to the ground in front of his smug big brother.

“You really are almost as gracefully as you are subtle, Sherlock.”

Mycroft had straightened his teal coloured tie and strolled away. Fuming Sherlock had picked himself up and dusted himself down and headed to Barts. Maybe Molly had a spare tongue he could experiment on. His bad mood was broadcast in the way he slammed into the morgue and demanded;

“Molly. Tongues.”

She paused in taking off her lab coat. The teal cardigan she wore today would have been an improvement on her normal sartorial choice if it hadn’t been adorned with little ribbons. She shook her head continued to remove the coat.

“Nope, Sherlock. I’m going out for lunch. I’ll be back in an hour, you can wait until then.”

She gave him a cheery smile and left. Sherlock was momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly. He counted to ten and then calmly left, deciding to pester John at the surgery instead.

 

A few days before Christmas Sherlock was at his wit’s end. For the past three weeks he’d been frustrated at every turn. He still had no idea whom his brother was dating. He’d tried everything apart from phoning Mummy and now that was becoming a tempting idea. He shuddered theatrically to himself. Things weren’t that desperate, yet. Still it might prove to be a good way to drop Mycroft in it with their parents; he didn’t believe for a second that his brother had informed Mummy of his new relationship status. Feeling better that he had a plan of last resort that would spell trouble for Mycroft he and pulled on his suit jacket. John had insisted that they host Christmas drinks for their friends. Bracing himself for an evening of inane chit chat Sherlock walked into the living room. 

Mycroft was already there chatting with Lestrade. Sherlock pointedly ignored them and greeted Mrs Hudson with a kiss on the cheek. John and his latest girlfriend, (Alison, Amanda, no this one was Abby), were bent over John’s laptop debating which Christmas song to play next. Sherlock nodded a polite hello to Molly as she came in bundled up in a huge duffel coat. He just couldn’t control his reaction when she shrugged out of it and revealed the Christmas jumper hidden beneath. The broad stripes of bright blue and red were each decorated with a different Christmas themed motif, snowflakes, reindeer and Christmas trees clashed hideously with each other.

“Molly, that is beyond vile. Even by your standard lack of dress sense.”

Sherlock’s comment caused the conversation to halt. In the tense silence Mycroft crossed the room to Molly’s side, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he went. He smiled down at the petite pathologist before turning to Sherlock and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. The movement revealed his waistcoat, which perfectly matched Molly’s jumper in every garish detail. He raised an eyebrow at his brother and slipped his arm around Molly’s shoulders.

Sherlock’s resulting outburst earned him a sharp tut and slap on the arm from Mrs Hudson. Both John and Lestrade burst into laughter and moved to congratulate the newly announced couple. Sherlock finally offered his own congratulations in his own unique way.

“One would have hoped that you would influence her taste rather than the other way round, brother mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> The waistcoat I imagine Mycroft wearing can be seen here;  
> http://mask.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/Screen-Shot-2013-12-02-at-12.44.08-286x300.png


End file.
